


The Magic of Oranges

by astudyinfic



Series: Holidays 2020 [13]
Category: The Kingston Cycle - C. L. Polk
Genre: M/M, Miles POV, Not Beta Read, POV First Person, Post-Witchmark, Pre-Stormsong, Smutty non-smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:01:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28060596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astudyinfic/pseuds/astudyinfic
Summary: Miles might be stuck in bed, feeling weak and helpless, but some things still make him feel like the most powerful person in the world.
Relationships: Tristan Hunter/Miles Singer
Series: Holidays 2020 [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036116
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	The Magic of Oranges

**Author's Note:**

> **Day 13: Unwrap**
> 
> Prompts can be found [here](https://astudyinfic.tumblr.com/post/635866337200259072/decided-it-was-time-for-a-new-holiday-prompt-list).

Cormac told me that Healers made the worst patients. it was the first thing he ever said to me, in fact. I tried to ignore it and tell myself I was doing everything I was supposed to, but the truth was, I was not used to being helpless. I spent my whole life taking care of myself. Whether it was running away from a home that would have forced me into magical servitude to joining the army to working at the hospital, I never expected anyone to take care of me. I prided himself on his independence. 

Which was the bed I was confined to irked me so much. As a doctor, I knew that rest was the best thing for me, particularly after everything Tristan and Cormac had done to save his life. But I hated laying here day in and day out, being waited on, feeling useless. The world was on the edge of war; a war my people had no chance of winning. I didn't know if I could count them as my people anymore, I realized, but that didn't give me the jolt of pain I once thought it might.

I couldn't let myself dwell on what Aeland would do, or I would be tempted to go out and fight them all myself. If I did that, Tristan would be quite cross and I didn't exactly want to deal with that right now. Not when he was looking at me like that.

A man could get used to looks like that. 

His nimble fingers unwrapped yet another orange. I'd lost track of how many I'd eaten throughout the last few weeks. They should have been out of season, particularly with the weather as bad as it was, but the Amaranthine camp seemed to have a never-ending supply of them. I thought about asking where Tristan kept finding them but then he would distract me again and I would be lost. 

"You look like you either want to fight someone or are about to pounce me where I sit," Tristan laughed, the sound a deep rumble that echoed in my chest. "I would like to believe that I am not the one you want to fight, even if I am the one keeping you here."

"If by "here" you mean "alive', then yes, you are. No, I want to go fight my father and everyone else who had a hand in all of this." The horror was still fresh in my mind and I didn't know if it would ever truly fade. To think that Aeland had... It was too horrible even to consider. 

He reached out, running a hand through my hair. He smelled of oranges and the scent alone relaxed me as I now associated it with Tristan. I closed my eyes and basked in his presence before he pulled his hand back and went back to work on the orange. "You didn't address my other thought," he said and I could hear the mischief in his eyes. 

"The thought that I want to pounce on you?" When wasn't that the case? He made me feel things I had only gotten tastes of in the past. Nothing compared to what I felt for Tristan. And if I was feeling even a little better, I would do just that. But I knew I wouldn't have the energy for such endeavors and he would do nothing that might hurt me later on. 

That didn't mean I was fragile and complete without my desires.

He nodded and I shrugged. "When I am feeling better, I will keep you in the bedroom for a week." 

His eyes darkened and I smiled at him. 

Tristan held out a bit of orange to me and instead of reaching for it myself, I leaned forward and pulled it from his fingers with my teeth. His breath hitched and I felt powerful once more. This was as far as it could go and we both knew it but it was fun to tease him and Tristan didn't really mind, I knew. Our bond hummed with pleasure and joy, not frustration. He was simply happy to see me happy, something I knew I hadn't been for the weeks I'd been bedridden.

He held out another and I leaned in once more, letting my lips graze his fingers as I pulled the orange from them.

When he groaned this time, I felt more empowered since...the last time we did this. But each time reminded me that I wasn't always going to be stuck in this bed. I would be back to my full strength and feel like I did before the asylum. 

Holding out a third slice of orange, Tristan's eyes were darker and more intense than I had seen them in some time. This time, I bit into the orange, feeling the juice squirt out as I did. It dripped down his fingers as I ate the orange slice. Tristan moved to clean his hand and I grabbed it. I had very little strength but he let me do it anyway. Bringing his hand to my mouth, I sucked each of his fingers in, one by one, cleaning them with lips and tongue. 

The moment I released him, Tristan lunged for me. _Pounced_ to use his term from earlier.

Cormac walked in right as Tristan kissed me, my hands tangling in his hair, his fingers sticky against my cheeks. "Not again!" he sighed and we jumped apart like embarrassed teenagers. Well, Tristan did. I could only manage to hunch my shoulders and lean away from him. "What was it this time? Was it the oranges? What am I saying? Of course, it was the oranges." 

He shook his head and checked the magic web that covered my body. "No harm done. But seriously, you," he said, pointing to Tristan, "need to control yourself. And you," he continued, pointing at me, "need to stop winding him up. I don't even know why I bother."

Cormac continued to mutter and I reached out to take Tristan's hand. He leaned in to kiss my forehead. "I don't regret it," I told him, my eyes bright with excitement and joy.

"Neither do I. But maybe no more oranges for a while." 

I gasped and pulled back to look at him in horror and he conceded almost immediately. "Okay, but only one tomorrow."

He kissed me again, softer this time, and I didn't need to have my eyes open to know that Cormac was rolling his eyes at us. But that was okay. Because I was here and Tristan was here and all our friends and family were here and that was all that mattered.


End file.
